The Difficult Kind
by Rilla1
Summary: At 26, Ephram Brown gets a chance he never knew he had. But old hurts still ache, forgiveness has a price, and love is rarely enough. "If you could only see what love has made of me..." - Sheryl Crow
1. Prologue: For old time's sake

**Title: **The Difficult Kind 

**Author:** Rilla

**Summary:** At 26, Ephram Brown gets a chance he never knew he had. But with chances like these, come risks of the heart. 

**General ratings/categories:** PG-13 for mild-language and poetically disguised sexual situations. Completely CC, down to the littlest Everwoodian. Extreme angst. Romance. Future-fic. 

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to my beta, Amy, who had no choice in the matter and  treated my panicked calls for feedback as diversions in her hectic "real world" day. Props to the "Roswell" fic days for the angst training.

**Disclaimer:** Of course I don't own it. My bank might, though…they own everything else.

**Prologue: For old time's sake**

The first cold, sunny day in November found Bright Abbott sitting on top of the last wooden picnic table in the Denver Memorial Hospital courtyard. The others had been replaced sometime in the mid-80's with round, plastic, no-sharp-edge jobs, with individual, round, orange seats floating in midair. They absorbed the chill quicker than the oak planks that currently supported him.

His cell phone was open and poised, ready to make a call he didn't want to make. Bright looked upward to the fifth floor, long-term care wing of the immense facility and counted six windows from the left. She wasn't watching him, thank god. But he felt her eyes, none the less.

_I need to tell him_, she'd said just that morning. He'd heard the words and wanted to reject the implications. _Are you sure? _he'd started to ask, but she stopped him, _I have to_.

So here he was with a phone number he'd scrawled on his hand with a blue Bic after calling 411 and haggling with the east coast operator. He held up his palm, squeezed it into a fist and reopened it. The 6 had folded into something like a bow across his life line. Breathing the numbers as he dialed, "212…"

He'd expected an answering machine. The plan was to call at a time when no one was likely to be home, when everyone would be out earning money and having pizza from carts on street corners. That's what they did in New York, right? The phone hadn't even completed the first ring when he heard a woman pick up and ask, "Hello?"

A long pause. Crap. And it was a woman. Crap crap.

"Hello?" she repeated.

"Umm…I need to speak to Ephram." And then he added, "Brown."

Now a pause on her end. 

"Who is this?" Curiosity laced with familiarity. He didn't say anything, too unnerved by this whole task to speak. "Is this…? Bright, is that you?"

Oh wow… "Delia?" 

"Oh my God! Bright! It's been…," she searched for an appropriate amount, "…a long time."

He had no idea how he'd guessed it was her. She'd been 12 when he'd last seen Delia Brown. It was at the pool…the last summer he came back to Everwood to work during college. He'd called her 'munchkin' and told her he'd see her at Thanksgiving. He didn't return for almost four years. By then, the Browns were memories in Everwood.

More specifically, he wondered how she'd known it was him. That was seven…eight years ago? "Ya, it's been ages," he agreed, uncomfortable already. "Umm…I thought this was your brother's phone number?"

"Oh, it is," she said quickly. Damn, she sounded like a woman. She had to be 19, at least. "I'm just crashing here for Thanksgiving. Ephram didn't tell me you and he were still in touch." 

Swallowing hard, "We aren't, really. I just, I needed to get in touch with him about…something."

"He's down at the university right now. I can take a message."

Not the way he imagined delivering the news. "I…I don't know…I could just call ba…"

"Oh wait!" she said suddenly into the phone. "He just walked in." And before Bright could stop her or think to hang up, Delia was calling her brother's name. Bright hopped to the ground off the picnic table and made a quick side-to-side motion, trying to avoid the encounter like he would a linebacker. "It's Bright Abbott!" 

The phone crackled in Bright ear as it was handed off. "Hello?" The voice was still quick and low.

"Ephram…" Trapped by fiber optics.

"Bright?" Disbelieving. And then, "Is everyone ok?"

Ephram was never stupid. Weird, but not stupid. Get it over with.

"It's Amy. She wants to talk to you."

A much longer pause than Bright thought that information warranted.

"Okay. Put her on."

Fuck. "I can't," Bright answered, his free hand raking through his blonde hair and tugging at it in frustration. Eyes squeezed shut. "She's wants to know if you'll come to Colorado. She needs to see you. In person."

"I've got a life here. You can tell her that." His answer was too sharp.

Bright gripped the tiny cell phone more tightly and wondered how to best convey the importance of what he was saying…without coming out and saying it. Which he couldn't do.

"You need to come out to Denver this weekend, dickhead. …Or else I'll kick your ass," he added for old time's sake.


	2. Flights of Fancy

Chapter 1: Flights of Fancy 

The plane ride to Denver had been tame except for some rough turbulence over Lake Eerie that induced vomiting on the part of not one, but two passengers seated in Ephram's aisle. Because they'd gotten their tickets last minute, Delia and Ephram weren't sitting beside each other. When they met in the tunnel into the terminal he was about to complain, but she was holding a barf bag of her own.

"You're kidding me," Ephram deadpanned.

She cast an unhappy glance at him before trudging to the bathroom. Five minutes later she came out, packing her toothbrush back into her carry-on and looking less peaked. "I'm never eating omelets again," she groaned, as her big brother put an arm around her shoulders in a quick hug. He'd forgotten that Delia got air sick. But then, this trip back in time was turning everything in his mind to mush. Bright had coughed up few details and when Ephram pressed him, his only words were the four-letter kind. It was no reason to fly a thousand miles at the drop of a hat to a town that he'd run from almost eight years ago. Except that it was…a reason, that is. The short friendship he and Bright had maintained after Colin's death accomplished one major thing; each could tell when the other was serious. Be it about the best video game, the hottest teacher or the biggest ass-kicking…and Bright was serious about Amy.

He'd offered to pick them up from the airport, but Ephram declined. If he was coming here against his will, he would at least have the freedom of leaving any time he wanted. He rented the car while Delia got a Ginger Ale and some breath mints. Twenty minutes later, they were on their way.

***

Two years earlier: December 2010

_Ask a person to describe how something smells and you'll get similes: like oranges, like paint, like vanilla, like garbage, like flowers, like smoke._

Ask Ephram Brown to describe how Amy Abbott smelled the night he took her in his bed after years of aching, and he would reply: warm.

_For much of his life, Ephram felt a chill that ran from somewhere at the base of his neck to lowest part of his gut, and that chill would ebb and flow on any given day. And as sure as it began the night his mother died, it ended in Amy's arms._

_The long years of searching for heat had brief moments of respite. A concert tour in Austria, a lover for eight months in Louisiana, Delia's graduation when she looked so fiercely like their mother Ephram thought he'd died. These were all occasions in which he felt the release of ice shifting and melting within him. But the thaw was always brief, never long enough to believe in a total, enveloping summer. Which is why the winter night that he entered Amy with an agonizing, urgent slowness was the same instant everything in him that was cold and sharp rushed from his body and in its place, a warmth unlike any he'd ever known crept in and filled the empty spaces. And the warmness clung to him like a second skin._

_She was gone the next day; the briefest of interludes._

*******

"Turn here." Delia pointed forward, not truly indicating left or right, as she stared at the map the car rental place had provided. A New Yorker at heart, she never learned to drive and as a result, was a miserable navigator.

Ephram turned the sedan to the left. He knew the way to Denver Memorial. He remembered Colin's surgery in a way Delia did not. What he did not remember was the new cancer wing and the monolithic parking structure that rerouted traffic in a strange and questioningly efficient loop with one spur heading toward the ER and another funneling cars into available parking.

_Where should we meet? Do you have a place in Denver? _he'd asked, the day before.__

Bright hadn't been clear on why they weren't meeting in Everwood, which was fine with Ephram. He didn't need the reminders. Bright suggested a few Denver hot spots, but as much as Ephram had yearned for a city while in Colorado, Denver never captured his interest. He didn't know any of the places mentioned until, in frustration, Bright suggested the hospital. Wanting to get off the phone, Ephram agreed and ignored the unease building in his stomach. They set a time. Two o'clock in the lobby. They'd find some place after that. Ephram could follow Bright in his car.

It was 1:30. They were early, which suited Ephram. He needed time to perfect his façade. He was happy. He was successful. He had a recording out that was getting attention in jazz and classical circles alike, and earned him private student status with the most reclusive maestro in the northeast. He had a circle of friends that kept his life more interesting than he deserved and a woman who said she loved him. And would wait for him to come back from this strange trip to Colorado that he would tell her very little about. His sister wanted to go back; an old friend had called; he owed it to Delia; he was all she had. The woman understood. Or said she did.

"You don't look so hot."

A long sigh. "I don't know why I came."

Delia unbuckled her seat belt and turned to face her brother. Around them, squealing tires made tight turns in the parking deck and sounded far more dangerous than they were. "Because she asked."

"Bright asked," he corrected, closing his eyes.

"Same thing." She waited until it was clear he wasn't going to speak "Makes me think of Dad."

Ephram opened his eyes at the mention of their father and in the same moment reached for Delia's hand. "The hospital?"

She shrugged, "I guess. More than that. Colorado."

"I know. Me, too."

She squeezed his hand and then let it go. "Maybe…maybe we can go to Everwood, before we leave? It might be nice. To see Nina? Or Edna?"

It was 1:57.

"Time to go see if Bright's gone bald." 

Delia almost pressed the issue as her brother got out of the car. But this wasn't about her. This was about Amy. Amy needing to see Ephram. Delia doubted it would be good news. You don't send your brother to tell someone good news. Delia knew that very well. So she got out of the car, too, and together they threaded through the car park maze in the direction of the lobby.


	3. Interlude in A Minor, Part 1

**(Author's note: ** Thanks for the feedback! I'm glad the story  is capturing your interest, and I appreciate the encouragement.)

**Interlude in A Minor, Part 1**

_"Wh…?" He couldn't form rest of the word. It could have been 'why,' or 'what,' or 'when.' But really it was all of them, and more. It had been three years since he'd seen her._

Three years since she'd stood in a black dress, eyes red from crying, hair twisted back in an elegant knot, lips trembling and slightly chapped as she kissed Ephram so hard and so desperately behind Nina's house the night of the funeral. Andy Brown had wanted to be cremated, his ashes spread partly over Julia's grave back in New York, the other half carried on the wind outside of Everwood. In the back of Ephram's mind had been the half-filled urn packed into his suitcase in the bedroom of the house next door. His house. To do with what he wished. The 21-year-old heir to the Brown name. Until Delia came of age and could take her half. Her burden.

For all the passion, Amy's kisses had tasted like ash. She'd cried when his lips hadn't moved against hers. He'd left for New York the next morning.  

_And now she was on his doorstep. Three years older. The pain still there._

_"Wh…?"_

_"I needed to see you," Amy whispered, with a fleeting glance to meet his eyes. Her hair was loose, shorter and tangled from the wind. She was wrapped in a dark wool coat with a pink scarf wound around her neck so that one long side hung down to her thigh. She looked cold._

_She smelled warm._

_She stepped forward at the same moment Ephram moved to take her arm and lead her in. His hand at her elbow, hers involuntarily moving toward his waist. They were close enough to embrace but neither moved. Instead they stood quite still in the frigid December night, their breath circling them in white puffs that caught the wind and rushed away down the street. His heart clenched and beat so hard he felt sick._

_"Maybe I shouldn't have…" Amy faltered, their closeness after so long disorienting her. But before she could turn, Ephram slid his hand around to her back and pressed, just enough to keep her from moving, but not enough to pull her to him._

_"Please…" he whispered and let it hang for a moment. "Come in."_


	4. Obeying Orders

**Chapter 2: Obeying Orders**

Bright was, in fact, not bald. His late twenties agreed with him. By default, he'd figured out what to do with his unruly hair and it now lay in longish waves at the nape of his heck and around his ears. _You look like a Canadian hockey player_, his dad would groan, but the ladies liked it. He hadn't become fat or an alcoholic like some the guys from the football team he saw around town. If anything, he was leaner. Four years spent in the third world can do that to a guy.

And so it happened that when Bright stood up to shake Ephram's hand in the hospital lobby, both men were surprised by the appearance of the other. For one thing, Ephram's grip was firmer than memory served.

"Thanks for coming," Bright said, "I know it sucks to fly during the holidays, but…" and his eyes landed on Delia who had just entered, tucking away her cell phone from the call she'd taken out on the sidewalk. If Ephram's filled-out frame and added height were unexpected, Delia's transformation was a revelation. 

Though he knew he didn't need to say it, a sense of formality gripped Ephram and gestured to his sister, "You remember Delia?"

Her chestnut hair, arranged in a makeshift chignon, shone under the fluorescence of the lobby lighting as Delia, clad in a long, dark red skirt and fitted velvet blazer, walked toward them. Not that Bright noticed the intricate moss greens and cerulean blues of the embroidery on the jacket, or the funky hem of the A-line skirt. That would be asking too much of him under any circumstance. But what struck him soundly was that she was thoroughly Woman. From hips, to breasts, to eyes lined with a color of shadow that a more articulate man might have called Kohl of Experience – Delia Brown had grown up. 

Twenty-seven-year-old men shouldn't stutter. "Ye…Yes. Well, no… I mean." What did he mean? "You were a kid last time," was what Bright settled with as she stopped beside her brother. Ephram was torn between rolling his eyes and scowling protectively. The result was a deranged grimace which neither party noticed.

Delia smiled wide at her grade school crush. "Yeah, and you don't look as tall anymore," she joked, leaning forward for a small hug. Bright's hands almost made it to her sides before she pulled away. "Seriously, it's good to see you."

"She puked on the plane," Ephram announced. Silence followed.

He couldn't have said why he shared this information with Bright, or why Delia looked at him with murderous eyes, but it felt good to lay it out there -- 'it' being the tone of the visit. They weren't here to reminisce, or give hugs or make nice like a decade hadn't passed. They were here because they had been commanded to appear. Thanksgiving be damned, because Amy had beckoned. Never mind the guilt-trips and questions they'd had to endure from their grandparents as to why they were "choosing" to return to Colorado on the very Thursday morning that they should be helping Nonnie set the table and negotiating a grotesquely overstuffed bird into the oven.

"Wow," Bright said, recovering. He looked into Delia's mortified face and searched for the right words. "That…blows."  At this unavoidable pun, Bright snorted a quick laugh and was relieved when Delia joined him in a repressed snicker of her own. They were soon outright laughing and Ephram stood with his hands in his corduroy pants and waited for them to finish. Bright finally sniggered to a stop, "Don't worry, I'm a Dramamine fiend when I fly."

"Me, too, usually," she answered, her arms no longer crossed in front of her body. "We just left New York so quickly…"

He nodded sympathetically, "Yeah, I'm sorry about that." Ephram thought Bright might elaborate, give a few more clues. But instead, "And another thing…I wish I could have been here to say 'goodbye' when you left Everwood." He was remembering his promise to Delia at the pool and his small friendship with Ephram as he addressed them both. "I'm sorry I couldn't be at the funeral."

It had been the wrong thing to say, he knew immediately. Ephram stiffened and Delia's smile faded. Bright tried to repair, "I was in Tanzania when I got the letter. It was almost a month later." Looking to Ephram, "I tried to call but you'd already…"

"It's ok, Bright. There was a lot going on then," Ephram interrupted, and changed gears, "So…where to from here? Our car's in the deck." He moved a few steps away from the group, as if to leave.

"Ephram," Bright said, stopping him, before taking a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He didn't want to take this plan any further because he didn't think anyone was ready to face what it meant. And it sure as hell wasn't the resolution he'd prayed for. But he couldn't go against Amy, either. Not with so much at stake. He looked Ephram in the eyes, "Amy's here."


	5. Interlude in A Minor, Part 2

Interlude in A Minor, Part 2 

_She walked into his apartment with tentative steps, her boots sounding lightly on the hardwood floor.  She had never seen this place, which seemed all at once strange and simple to him. He followed her as far as the kitchen and then waited and watched while she studied the life he led in his furniture, walls, photographs and piano. He imagined how it might look to her, to recognize bits and pieces, but not be familiar with the whole. _

It was how he felt when he looked at her.

_She lingered beside the baby grand, tucked into a corner near the exposed brick wall, and stretched out an idle finger to press down the lowest key. It vibrated through the room even after she released it. Ephram thought back to the day he'd hauled the black, hulking beast off the street and through the wide second story window. It took weeks to re-perfect the tune. As though guessing, "How did you get that in here?" she asked, shrugging off her coat and failing at a casual tone._

_Ephram moved forward and took the coat from her shoulders, so close once more. "We lifted it," he answered.  The coat slid down her arms and into his hands. The outer shell was cold to the touch, but the satin lining held her heat. "Through the window."_

_"We?" she asked, as he laid her coat over the nearby armchair. The hall closet was across the room. He didn't know if he had the power to move that far from her just yet._

_"Me and some friends." Friends that she didn't know. Wouldn't need to know because she wasn't a part of his life anymore. Except, here she was, standing in his apartment, being a part of his life. No matter how impossible that seemed._

_She turned to look out his window and he closed the cover over the keyboard._


	6. Unfair Terms

**(Author's Note: **Thanks so much for the latest FB!  For anyone that's confused about the time jumping and back history, I beg you to hang in there. I don't like to reveal everything at once, so this might feel more like a puzzle at first. But I promise to make it all come together! P.S. The italics in this document didn't come through in the transfer. So just note that the text between the *** in this chapter should be italicized – which means that this is a flashback memory. I've tried to remain consistent with this, so sorry about the italics.  ~Rilla)

**Chapter 3: Unfair Terms**

This was not the scenario Ephram had worked out in his head during the sleepless nights he allowed his mind to drift westward. In his imagined reality, Amy was supposed to be married – though he had heard through the Everwood grapevine that she was not. She was supposed to be happy – though of this, too, he had heard rumors; suggestions that Amy Abbott's life had not gone as the town would have expected. But this came through unreliable and uncharitable sources and so Ephram ignored them. She was supposed to be a hundred different things, all of them good and promising and full of life. It was what both comforted and tormented him.  

She was not supposed to be sick. And in a hospital.

_***_

There hadn't been time to get Andy Brown to a hospital. "Dad…DAD!" Ephram screamed, hours too late. The fire he'd built for them the night before, the jokes they'd told over hot cider and rum, and the kinship they'd felt – so hard fought for – dissipated like so much thin smoke. Ephram cried over the body with the kind of choking agony that should be experienced only a few times in a person's life. At 21, it was his second time.

He looked into his father's face, pale in the dawn light, and searched for life. What he found was a breathless smile.

Everyone who heard the story, retold in fable-format by the town mortician, said that Andy Brown had died happy. Because he had had love in his life, even death couldn't erase his smile.

For Ephram, that knowledge did little to change his reality.

***

With every step on the gray linoleum, Ephram's mind spun as he ran over the millions of scenarios that might have led him to this place. To Amy. In a hospital. Calling him out of their self-imposed silence.

Two years since the closure he hadn't known he needed.

Five years since that deadening kiss after the funeral.

Ten years since that awakening touch on Prom Night.

Thirteen years since he'd entered her world.

And each and every scenario ended with him cursing lost and wasted time. He followed Bright and Delia with a weight heavy on his shoulders, and fear in his heart.

Delia tried to make small talk with Bright when she realized he was clearly under strict orders to tell Ephram nothing and to give no clues. Walking ahead of her brother and matching Bright's stride, she asked questions she felt confident Bright would answer, "How're Edna and Irv?" They were fine. "Where do you live now?" Just moved back to Everwood, from Boulder. No, it's only temporary. "Are you married?" He laughed at her frankness and shook his head. "How're your parents?" But they reached the elevator just as it opened to let a mother and daughter out, and questions stopped.

Ephram stepped in and Bright held his forearm in front of the door to ensure it would not shut on Delia before following behind her. A man in a wheelchair rolled in as well, and a nurse jumped aboard just as the doors were about to close. "Can you press 5?" Bright asked Ephram, who stood closest to the panel. Written above the number, etched on a brass plate, read "J. Heniman Cancer Center." The new addition in the name of a wealthy benefactor, and the cause of all that extra parking. His heart stuck in his throat. 

When the other two riders got off at floors two and three, Ephram turned to look at Bright with stricken eyes, "Bright, please. Why am I here?" Delia leaned into her brother's side and watched Bright weigh his options. 

"I wish I could tell ya, man. I really do. I know this sucks." And he seemed to mean it. "But it's not mine to tell. She…" And the door dinged open to reveal a spacious, gleaming nurses' station. Ephram started to step off, his stomach churning, when he felt Bright's hand on his shoulder. "Just please don't be too mad at her," Bright asked, quiet and serious.


	7. Interlude in A Minor, Part 3

Interlude in A Minor, Part 3 

_His shirt pulled swiftly and roughly over his head in the care of her fast hands. Piece by piece, their clothes fell away in moments of frenzy, when lips that moved over skin only broke contact for mere seconds to gain more intimate access.  Their breath became more ragged and the small moans they made, more desperate, until finally nothing separated them and they were panting with emotion. Only one move remained, one that had been years in the making, and the magnitude of it struck them both at the same time as they took each other in, naked and solid and needing. And afraid._

_"What are you doing here," he asked again, pleading. His voice broke. She sat astride him on his bed, shaking, her knees plowing into the thick feather comforter.  He gripped her shoulders and shook her. "After all this time…" He saw her lip tremble. "Why now?"_

_ Tears ran to her chin where they fell on her breasts and disappeared against her skin.  She whispered of hope. Of desire. Of needing to know that what they once shared had been real. That so much of her life up to this point had been false, and she was desperate for some truth. That she'd known too much young death and wanted to feel more young life. _

_Only she didn't say these things. Not out loud. But it's what he heard as she said softly, just once, "Because I love you, Ephram."_

_With strong arms, he lifted her from where she rested on his thighs and laid her on his bed. And as he crawled over her body to meet her, an image flashed in his mind. One from a fantasy long ago. It was of her leaning over him, of kissing him and teaching him how to touch her so that she would respond to him. He was comfortable with being taught, with following and not leading. It was a good fantasy because it contained some truth in the acknowledgement of his inexperience, and therefore, made the fantasy more attainable._

_But that was many years ago, and he no longer needed a guide. Ephram felt his way over Amy's skin with fingers adept at coaxing ivory and ebony, and pulled sounds from within her that hummed and sang against his body, rocking him like waves against a boat, releasing in him a heat he never knew possible. _

And the warmth spread throughout the night.


	8. Long Distance, Summer 2006

Chapter 4: Long Distance, Summer 2006 

June 3, 2006

Dear Ephram,

I got in! I got in! The acceptance letter came the same day as your last letter! (I love the pictures of you at the Vienna Opera House, by the way. You in tails is a sight to see! Next time you're there, it will be to play, I'm sure. Who's the girl in the picture?) 

Sorry…tangent. Anyway, the dean I met with in the spring said I could start the pre-rec classes in July. And since I had some bio at NYU, I won't be so overwhelmed, even though I'm now facing at least 6 years of school after undergrad. Unbelievable. I'm so glad Colorado State's Veterinary Program is one of the best in the country – it would have been too hard to be away for that long! It's good to be closer to home. And my dad finally gets a doctor out of me. I don't even want to entertain the thought that he was right all along!!!

Being back in Colorado feels right, you know? But Everwood is lonely. You're not here and Bright's last letter said he was in Cameroon…it's all too weird. You know I love my stupid brother, but I never would have imagined he'd be the one to try and save the world at 20. His letters are so different from last year. Last year he seemed to be in shock about everything, now he sounds very determined. He reminds me of Aunt Linda.

I got a call from Jeremy last week. He's in New York and begging me to come back. He said he'd changed. I wanted to scream at him. How could I have been so incredibly stupid, Ephram?

Don't answer that.

So despite the aggravation of having to deal with the Worst Ex-Boyfriend In The World, Jeremy's call reminded me of something. It reminded me to thank you again for what you said to me on your layover to Austria. I know I probably wasn't as appreciative at the time…I didn't want to see what a mess things had become…but looking back, I don't know if I would have had the courage to come home and reevaluate this whole college thing. So thank you…five months late. J

I'm leaving for Colorado Springs in two weeks and renting a place with Laynie. 

Write back soon.

Hugs,

Amy

***

June 20, 2006

Hey Amy,

Sorry this has to be quick. I'm heading to Salzburg for a few weeks for a master class and have to catch the train in 30 minutes. I'm really happy for you about CSU. Send an e-mail with your new address.

I'll send you more pictures from the Opera House. It was a crazy night. The girl is Susanna, a cellist here at the university. Say hi to Laynie.

Aufwiedersehen!

E.

P.S. You're welcome.

***

July 3, 2006

Delia,

Do NOT, I repeat DO NOT, think that just because I'm all the way over in the land of schnitzel and lederhosen, that I will not be keeping a psychic eye on you and Mr. "Boy Band" on your date. (I can't believe I just typed that! You're ONLY 13!!!) I already e-mailed Dad a picture of me looking really angry and threatening (don't laugh…you haven't seen me in a few months and I might be like the Hulk, for all you know) and I told him to tape it to the front door when this boy comes to pick you up.

Sorry I can't be there to perform the time honored right of scaring the crap out of my little sister's date – I'll just have to make up for it later. Be safe, or I'll kick his ass.

Your Older and Wiser Brother

***

July 4, 2006

Hey Grover,

I'll be out of touch for the next month or so. The team I'm with is building houses and bathrooms for this town that's been completed trashed by civil wars and neglect and stuff. To see all these people living in what we wouldn't even consider a decent ice-shack back home really sucks. I'm pretty psyched to get working. And there's a totally hot doctor coming, too!

I'm thinking about Colin today. I know you are, too.

Love ya,

Bright

***

July 24, 2006

Hi Ephram,

Delia and I are all packed and Nina's looking after Oscar while we're gone. Though I wouldn't mind if she made a rabbit stew out of him…that fur-ball with fangs chewed through my favorite flannel shirt last night! Here's our flight info:

______________________________________________________

Your Trip Details

______________________________________________________

Flight:     American Airlines flight 2255  (Non-Stop)

Depart:     Denver (DEN) - TERMINAL B

'           Fri, July 25 at 12:30 pm

Arrive:     New York-Kennedy (JFK) - Terminal Information Unavailable

'           Fri, July 25 at 6:01 pm

______________________________________________________

Flight:     Lufthansa flight 606 (One connection)

Depart:     New York-Kennedy (JFK) - Terminal Information Unavailable

'           Sun, July 27 at 8:15 pm

Arrive:     Vienna, Austria (VIE) 

'           Mon, July 28 at 12:20 pm

We're staying the Friday and Saturday with your grandparents. You'll still be able to pick us up on Monday, right? We change planes in Dusseldorf, but I don't know what time of the morning or night that will be.

Miss you, Ephram. Can't wait to see you.

Dad

***

August 3, 2006

Ephram,

Organic will be the bane of my existence! Everyone has told me to expect to fail it the first time I take it. How can that be an academic pursuit?

I checked out the website with your master class performing. I could listen to the whole concert in the computer lab and this might sound stupid, but I swear I could tell when you were playing the piano and when it was someone else. Are you back in Vienna now?

And hey, my mom told me that she saw Delia a few weeks ago with a bunch of kids at the pizza place. Apparently, Rachel Elliot's (remember her? She's pregnant now!!!) little brother was staring at Delia like she was "made of chocolate"…that's my mom's quote, not mine.

My NYU e-mail address is about to go inactive, so from now on, just e-mail me at this one.

Amy

***

August 13, 2006

Dear Bright,

Happy Birthday! This is the last address we have for you, so I hope you get this. I just wanted you to know that your mother and I love you. Especially your mother…to whom I wish you would write. And I can't say it would only be for her sake, it would make things nicer for me around here as well. 

Stay safe and for God's sake, if you write your mother, don't tell her I asked you to! This has been hard on you both, I know, but one of you needs to make a move and she's currently filibustering from _Better Homes and Gardens_. So I'm simply going to request that you don't drag me into it as well. I'm content to sit on the sidelines with this one. I explained my position to Dr. Quack the other night and that bearded ninny seems content to call me the flag bearer in this little war of wills you two have going.

And in case you don't know it, or have forgotten it as you traipse about the African continent, I'm proud of you, son. And your Aunt Linda would be proud, too.

Love,

Dad

P.S. I don't know how often you contact Amy, but you might want to know that she weathered July 4 very well. I hope you did the same.

***

August 16, 2006

Hey Amy,

Now I know why I live so far away from home. Dad and Delia left yesterday, which is why I haven't really had the time to write. Three weeks! Three weeks is an inhumane time to have my father and very-teenage acting sister in my very tiny apartment! I mean, we had a good time and they traveled a lot, but I am so glad to be going back to San Francisco, and not stopping in Everwood. It will feel weird to be back in the States after almost seven months here, but I can't even tell you how much I'm looking forward to a good, greasy pizza. 

I'm sorry you didn't get to visit while I've been here. I guess things would have been too weird last semester. But maybe you can come to San Fran for Fall Break? The Conservatory's break is the second weekend in October. What's CSU's? 

Our last night here is Friday, so we're all going out in an hour or so to a huge house party at Susanna's (the girl in the picture). Her father is an embassy big-wig and they have an amazing place in the center of the city. Somehow I don't think my jeans and Giant Robot t-shirt will work, so I guess I should go find something nice from the bottom of the laundry pile.

Good luck with your first official semester as a pre-vet! And for what it's worth, I think Colorado is the better choice over New York. (You do know it caused me physical pain to write that, don't you?)

Later,

Ephram


	9. Modeling Behavior

Chapter 5: Modeling Behavior 

Delia had made a habit of taking cues from her older brother. As early as she could remember, she made efforts to copy him. She was lucky – there was just enough distance in their ages that this didn't annoy him. So for the earliest parts of her life, especially in New York, she had more of a protector and teddy bear, than a teasing, older brother.

With the move to Everwood, that connection lessened. Ephram grew surly and angst-ridden, and she was eager to separate herself from the turmoil raging between him and their father. So Delia, for the first time in her life, struck out into the world without Ephram. And what she found was a whole town just ready for the exploring. And along the way, she picked up a few more teddy bears.

One of them was Bright Abbott. 

The summer before Bright was to go back to college was an exciting one for Delia. She was about to turn 12, and 12 was only one year from 13 and after that…the possibilities were endless! She could recall every word of her conversation with Bright that last day at the pool. He'd given her a big hug, lifting her off her feet. And it was _after_ the hug he gave Brittany, so _technically_, Delia had been the last one to actually _touch_ him. More than that, he'd told her, specifically, that he'd see her at Thanksgiving. Delia's diary belied her tom-boy persona, and was filled with pages devoted to the deconstruction of his parting words: "We'll have to share a wish bone at Thanksgiving, Munchkin." _Munchkin! _She was sure that it would be his pet name for her when they were married.

But before Bright left for school, Linda Abbott died. And the guilt and misery of her former loathing of Linda made Delia incapable of going to the funeral. She'd told her father she was sick, and too lost in his own grief to push, let her stay home. He'd turned to Ephram for a solution and Ephram suggested Madison come over, a surprising proposal given how their relationship had ended. But Delia was grateful, and former babysitter and babysittee watched movies. All the while, Delia wallowed in her belief that her hatred had contributed to the death of Bright's aunt. 

By the time her father and brother convinced her that no one held her responsible, even a little bit, Bright was already in Africa. But as with most childhood loves, her crush faded, others replaced him, and she grew to remember Bright fondly, if not with a little embarrassment.

Now, so many years later as she followed him and Ephram through the twists and turns of the hospital, she considered what it might be like to leave New York a second time. To come back to a town where she'd felt cozy and safe. To once again leave her solitary devotion to her brother behind and allow other people into her life.

As soon as the thought entered her mind, she blanched and pushed it away. Wasn't this trip the perfect example of why not to let people into your life? Years after Ephram and Amy first met, here he was, walking through a hospital to find…what? Amy sick? Amy dying? Wasn't this the way it always ended? Letting people in inevitably meant losing them. This was a lesson she had learned well. 

'No,' she thought as she prepared herself to be strong for her brother, the only person she allowed beyond the veneer of friendship and familial affection since her father's death. 'I'm not opening myself up to that pain again. Not like Ephram has.' And yet, she thought of Edna and Nina – women she hadn't seen since a brief stop in Everwood two years ago for her old high school's graduation. Letters and phone calls kept them in touch, and with every contact, Delia felt the pull of their love on her. It was what kept her in New York, far from the possibility of being hurt.

Amy's call to Ephram had done more than bring them back to Colorado. It brought Delia within striking distance of the two women who'd filled the gap her mother had left behind. Caught between desperately wanting to see them, and fearing reattachment, she decided she was lucky this time. This time, all decisions were Ephram's. 

***

_"Ephram, please. She needs you."_

_He inhaled in order to steel himself against his grandmother's plea. On the phone, there was only her calm voice and the chime of their clock in the background marking a quarter-of-an-hour. On his end, music and drunken laughter filtered into his garden apartment four blocks away from the heart of New Orleans. His roommate, an ex-Navy cadet from Arkansas, was always telling him he needed to get out of the jazz cafes and into the '_Calles'_…that's where the action was happening. Usually Ephram shook his head with a bemused grin. However, tonight he would have desperately liked to be out in the streets, avoiding this call, if nothing else._

_"Nonnie, she's going to graduate in three months," he reasoned, sure that this was another ploy to get him to move back. "She's going to go to college and all the crap—"_

_"Ephram!"_

_"Sorry, sorry! All the 'crud' she's going through in high school will vanish. I know this! It happens with everybody." He took a drink and winced on the gin, hoping his grandmother wouldn't hear the ice cubes clinking in the glass._

_"I'm not convinced, Ephram. It's not as though leaving high school was the cure-all for you. You ran all the way to Europe to shake off the 'crud' of high school." She dripped with authentic New York sarcasm._

_This was a sore subject. "I didn't 'run' anywhere, Nonnie. Vienna was the opportunity of a…"_

_But she didn't let him finish, "You didn't even finish your degree at San Francisco and then you ran down to that town of debauchery…" She paused as though she didn't have the strength to continue. "You have a responsibility, whether you like it or not."_

_And this enraged him, "I'm NOT shirking my responsibility for Delia. Me living in New Orleans has nothing to do with me running. This is about me, living my life, finding my own way!" _

_There was a brief silence on the phone as each of them considered their next attack. It was his grandmother who saw the chink in his armor first. "That's fine, Ephram. If this is, indeed, about finding your way, then I'm not one to stop you. I know your music is central to your life, and even if you've abandoned higher education, at least you haven't forgotten what your mother and father had hoped for you. As to Delia, I leave it to you to make the decision."_

_They hung up after exchanging stiff 'I love you's and Ephram finished his drink and three others in the dark of his bedroom, not hearing the din of the city for all the screeching in his head. He fell asleep sometime after his roommate came home with a girl from Utah who'd never been to New Orleans and was happy to call out her delight through the paper-thin walls. The next day Ephram booked a flight for New York that would leave at the end of the week. _

***

Bright made the final turn down a wing reserved for patients preparing for experimental treatment. Among the nurses, he'd discovered, it was casually referred to as the "sci-fi" wing. He'd made several trips down this hall in the past month and each time he wondered what the people in the other rooms were praying for. A miracle cure; a new innovation; an earth-shattering discovery; a reversal of diagnosis?

He knew what he'd prayed for. And for all the good he'd done in Africa, in South America…hell, even in Everwood…he would have thought his prayer would be answered. He knew God didn't work that way, his mother told him that a thousand times. But it didn't stop him from feeling his cries were ignored. Especially now as he led Ephram to the last door. The nameplate read "Abbott" and there were paper roses struck to the door in cheerful, non-death colors. Red for blood. Blood for life. He knocked twice, quickly rapping his knuckles on the wood, and heard a faint, "Come in."

Ephram and Delia lingered for a moment as Bright stepped into the room, then stuck his head back out, impatient, "Come in, you guys." 

They turned the corner into the sunlit hospital room at the same time, and neither had the composure to conceal their shock.

"It's so good to see you again, Ephram, Delia. I'm so glad you came."

Ephram stared at the woman lying in the hospital bed, pale and hooked up to several monitoring machines. Some beeped, others drew lines across a black screen. She looked frail, thin, weak. But when she smiled at him, he could see her old joy in the tired lines near her eyes.

"Hello, Mrs. Abbott. It's good to see you again, too," he said.


	10. Interlude in A Minor, Part 4

(Author's Note: Thanks for waiting for me to update and for the helpful feedback. So appreciated! Also, I cannot, for the life of me, get the italics to come out correctly on this chapter. So just know that this should be all be italicized as a flashback. Sorry for the disruption. ~ Rilla) Interlude in A Minor, Part 4 

Sometime while the moon was still high…

He placed his right hand low on her belly, between her hips, and pulled her more snuggly toward him. Spooned together, her curves matching his; his other arm beneath her neck so her head could cradle against his bicep and chest. They were both warm, but not uncomfortably so, from the small bit of sleep they'd captured before this moment. Now content with how their bodies meshed, Ephram let his free hand wander up her torso until he cupped a breast in his hand. He marveled at its weight, slack and soft from sleep and heat, in his palm. Her back arched as his pressed and pulled and the movement brought him fully awake.

***

Sometime before the sky turned gray…

_Hands held him and if it were not for the promise of more, he would have bucked and ended the bliss right there. But she hushed him and asked with her eyes to let her do this. He put a shaking hand to her face and cupped her chin._

_"Please."_

"Yes."

***

Sometime during the first pink light…

He never liked to say 'I love you' during sex. He thought it sounded false, as though the physical act was the only reason for the sentiment. 

As the sun began to rise and the murky light turned pale and peach, Ephram called out her name. When she broke against him, tears in her eyes, he whispered again and again, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you…

And he did.

***

It was the Nightingale…

He asked if she wanted to take a shower with him, but she declined, favoring sleep. He teased her, kissing her hair at the crown of her head, and looked back once in sustained awe that this was all happening.

He smiled as he washed his body under the hot water, reluctant to use too much soap lest her scent vanish from his skin, and planned a breakfast of French toast. A day of walking and kissing in Central Park. She'd love the polar bears. Then ducking into his favorite café to warm up over hot rum and words. And that night, if he felt like sharing Amy Abbott with the rest of the world, he might take her to meet some of his friends. They would love her. They would be happy for him. She would smile at him and he'd kiss her sweetly before saying goodnight. And when he took her back to his apartment that night…

When he got out of the shower, the air was cooler and his skin prickled. He would jump back in bed and abandon French toast is favor of a different sustenance. But the bed was empty. He called out. The kitchen was silent. There were no other rooms to check. There was no note saying she'd stepped out to get juice, coffee. The door had not been left ajar so she could get back in. His keys were still on the table. There was no coat laying over the chair. 

…It was the Lark. 


	11. Blindside

(Author's Note: Hi all…it's been great reading your feedback, as well as encouraging during a time when _Everwood_ hasn't been the most inspirational. Just a quick note to disclaim my utter lack of medical knowledge: I've researched a few things, but otherwise, not having a medical reference staff like the show,  I'm asking you to forgive my vagaries. If you take offence to any of my medical implications and misconceptions, I ask that you resign yourself to my ignorance and not hold it against the general plotline. Thanks ~ Rilla)

Chapter 6: Blindside

There were four occasions in Ephram's 26 years that he could look back on as life-defining moments. Events that changed his compass forever, without warning or mercy. The first was his mother's death on the highway, and the hour-and-a-half after his recital when he waited in the empty concert hall with his chain-smoking piano teacher. He hadn't known when he was performing that his mom wasn't in the audience. After he struck the last note – holding the key down for five, beautiful seconds – he'd risen from the bench, bowed, and smiled slightly and bashfully into the blinding lights so that she could take the picture she'd demanded he pause for. In the glare, he couldn't tell that no flash went off.

The second was their move to Everwood and the wrenching guilt and anger that lived in his body for months, abating slowly, and finally dissipating the day his father explained his mother's wish.

Up until his dad's death, Ephram considered the spring night Amy confessed that she loved him, just a few days shy of high school graduation, to be another one of those moments. But in hindsight, the importance of that night was driven out by the sudden loss of his dad three years later. Moments that brought joy could rarely compete with sorrow for a place of importance in Ephram's heart. 

Which is why the bitter-sweet meeting of he and Amy almost two years ago earned a spot on his life altering list. The crushing sensation he'd nurtured for weeks…months…after he'd come out of the shower to find a cold, empty bed was offset by the warm, lingering softness she'd brought back into his life. He'd told no one of their encounter, expect for a sleepy, tipsy conversation with his current girlfriend that eluded to closure, but with whom and how, he would not divulge.

Without any clear knowledge of why he was now in a hospital room with Bright and Amy's ailing mother, Ephram instantly recognized this as Moment Number Five. And as such, he thought it might be a good idea to note every detail, so that 20 years from now he could think back and say:

'Ah, yes. And I remember the air smelled nicer than it ought to have, because there was a pumpkin pie scented candle on the rolling table beside the teal water pitcher. Dr. Abbott was sitting beside his wife's bed with a newspaper. He put it down when we came in and stood up. It was the New York Times. Mrs. Abbott was wearing a pale pink robe and when she reached out to give Delia a hug, the wedding ring on her finger hung loosely. Dr. Abbott shook my hand and thanked me for coming, while Bright kissed his mother on the cheek and told her that the roads weren't bad. Then everyone was looking at me, then behind me. And I knew Amy had arrived.'

***

"Ephram?"

He turned away from the strange play taking place before him, aware that he hadn't memorized his lines and, in fact, couldn't discern the plot, to come face-to-face with Amy Abbott. A few years older, no less beautiful, but utterly careworn. 

"Hi," he said softly. 

She didn't smile, like the others had. She didn't pretend that this wasn't strange and confusing. And she didn't try to touch him. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

"I wasn't either." He didn't know how he managed an even tone since his hand his hands were shaking so badly he had to stuff them in his pockets. 

"I'm glad you did. It means…" He waited for her to finish. What? What did it mean? "…a lot."

Then the vacuum in which they were existing ended in a rush of noise and action. Mrs. Abbott chiding her husband for not offering Delia and Ephram a seat. "They've had a long flight!" Bright edging past Ephram to give Amy a quick hug. "Hey, sis." After a short flutter of movement, Ephram found himself sitting in a folding chair underneath a precariously mounted TV, watching Mrs. Abbott praise Delia's beauty while Dr. Abbott left to, presumably, speak to a nurse, since he returned with one in tow.

"Harold, I'm fine. There was no need…"

He would have none of it, "You know spikes in excitement levels need to be avoided, Rose. Nurse…" He checked her name badge, "…Connie is just going to make sure everything's fine." Dr. Abbott was noticeably grayer, Ephram thought. And more fussy, if that were possible. But given the circumstances…

After some fidgeting on the part of the nurse and puffing on the part of Dr. Abbott, the room settled back into an excruciatingly awkward silence that gave Ephram a moment to rethink the situation. Amy wasn't sick. She wasn't dying. She was standing in the opposite corner behind her brother, looking out the window so intently he wondered if she might jump. While Mrs. Abbott's heart rate was steady, Ephram felt his own escalate until he could stand it no longer.

"Mrs. Abbott…"

"Oh, call me Rose, Ephram," she scolded, kindly. "You're not a child anymore." 

Ephram paused, and began again. "I'm so sorry you're…here. In the hospital, that is." She smiled with the gentle eyes he remembered from town meetings, the pool, graduation night, and it encouraged him to go on. "I had no idea you were sick, or else I would have…" Called? Come to visit? What would he have done? Ephram didn't know and no one responded, except to look at each other with pained expressions. "But I don't really know why… Why are Delia and I here?" Dr. Abbott sighed in response, but otherwise, the group was motionless. Ephram's discomfort grew, as did his frustration. "I thought you were…" he began, looking to Amy with eyes torn between relief and accusation. She refused to meet his gaze, so he turned his attention on Bright for some kind of explanation. His old friend squirmed under the scrutiny.

"Bro, I'm sorry. I knew that's what you'd think. But I couldn't…" Bright trailed off and stared down at his hands.

Sensing the situation was about to spiral into a difficult place, Rose took up the thread. "Ephram, this was my doing. Before anyone says anything else, you should know that I'm responsible for the awkwardness…and necessity of this," she gestured with a hand that had a needle stuck just under the skin, "situation. Three months ago, I was diagnosed with an unusual strain of bone cancer. It was rather advanced and chances were slim. But there was a new option, a treatment that hasn't been perfected yet." Dr. Abbott took her hand as Delia shifted in her seat. She wasn't as comfortable in hospitals as Ephram. "Generally, I could have had some hope through a normal bone marrow transplant, but this is something different. The donation isn't as routine. There are…risks." Rose's gaze darted to Amy for just a second, but it was enough to make Ephram's stomach drop.

Dr. Abbott squeezed Rose's hand and cut in, "It's a complicated procedure, Ephram. One that harvests bone marrow from the pelvic and breast bones of the donor, which are difficult locations. Once accessed, the bone marrow is treated with a cocktail of inhibitors and reinserted into the donor who will play host for a new form of marrow to grow. That altered marrow will combat the strain of cancer Rose is fighting once its re-harvested and transplanted. It's because of the dangers of this procedure that you were asked to come here." His tone was professional, clinical even. But his face belied fear.

"And the donor is…" Ephram prompted, already knowing the answer in his gut. 

"I'm the donor."

Dr. Abbott smiled at his daughter with pride and regret, "Amy is the only one who matches her mother and she has very bravely offered to be the donor."

Amy returned his smile with a small one of her own and then, finally, looked to Ephram. "But I couldn't do this without talking to you first." The explanations ended there, as though they were all waiting for Ephram to connect the dots. He'd followed them this far, but now he felt rudderless. 

"I don't understand, Amy…"

He rose to his feet to go to her; seek explanations. None of this made sense! He wanted to take her out of this room where everyone was staring and demand to know why she'd left without saying goodbye. And what that meant for them now? 

"Knock, knock!" sang out a voice from the doorway. All eyes swung to see a woman holding a small boy – maybe just a year old – in her arms and smiling broadly. "We got a little chilly playing outside, so Ben and I decided to come in and give Grandma a special rock…we…found." She sputtered to a stop as she became aware of the strangers in the room, and looked anxiously from Ephram to Amy and back to Ephram.

The child – Ben – extended his hand, closed around the rock, to Rose who called to him with a laugh and open arms, "Do you have a present for your Grandma? Come here, sweetheart," and in an aside voice, "Thanks for taking him, Eve." The woman, Eve, walked to the bed to hand Ben to Rose, as Delia and Ephram looked on with stunned expressions. But at the last moment, the child lurched his body to the side with a short, demanding cry and reached both arms toward Amy and Bright. The rock plopped on the bed and Ephram watched it bounce twice on the snug blanket wrapped at Rose's feet. All the pieces were falling into place and even before it was confirmed, Ephram watched as the true nature of his role come into focus.

Amy stepped forward as Ben lunged into space, and then into her arms. She snuggled him close to her as he flopped his head under her chin, sticking his finger in his mouth to suck contentedly. There was a short moment of peace as Amy brushed her thumb across his cheek in greeting and kissed him on the head, before facing the room. Before facing Ephram.

"Ephram, this is Ben." She stared Ephram in the eyes as his own vision tunneled to include only her. "My son."

He considered her eyes as she held his gaze over the ashy brown hair of the child; intent and defiant. And a little afraid. 

"Your son?" he asked. 

"Your son," she answered.


	12. Run, Ephram, Run

Chapter 7: Run, Ephram, Run

There was a Holiday Inn down the road from the hospital. Bright was staying there and offered to get Ephram and Delia a room, too. Delia answered for her brother. She asked if Dr. Abbott and Amy would be there, too, but Bright said his dad slept at the hospital and showered in Bright's room. Amy and Ben were staying with Eve, a friend from vet school. Delia accepted the room and, despite her lack of a license, drove the rental car to the hotel making carefully signaled, white-knuckled turns. Ephram sat in the passenger seat numb and silent.

Their room was on the 5th floor. Two double beds and an office area. A hardbound guide to Denver lay open on the nearest bed with a welcome card encouraging them to save water and reuse their towels. The coverlets were brick red with an overwhelming orange and blue flower print that should have been hideous, but actually lent the bland room some cheer. Delia didn't know which room Bright was in. They'd agreed to meet for dinner if jet lag didn't catch up to her. Ephram agreed to nothing. He didn't notice the covers or the water conservation efforts. He lay on the bed farthest from the door, his back to the room, and went to sleep.

Being careful not to wake him, Delia walked into the hallway with her cell phone. It was 6 p.m. back in New York. Her grandparents would be sitting down to a festive Thanksgiving dinner, with friends and other distant family. Cousins she hardly knew and great aunts who told her she looked exactly like their dear Julia. She'd promised to call when they arrived and give a report. Tell Nonny why she and Ephram found it so necessary to be away from their only family on this important holiday. Scrolling through her phone book to the "N" section, she held her finger over the call button for a long minute. She thought of the tradition they'd started when she was a little girl, of video taping what they were thankful for. It almost faltered the second year, but her Dad resurrected it for her and now, every Thanksgiving, she would replay the tape and mouth her father's words back to the screen.

She couldn't handle this. She needed advice and comfort. In the end, she scrolled back down the alphabet from "No" to "Ni."

"Nina? It's Delia. Hi. Ya. I'm in Denver. I've missed you, too."

***

Of course, Ephram wasn't asleep. He'd remained still until Delia left the room, and when he heard the lock click, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. There was brownish stain on the ceiling from when this used to be a smoking room, and Ephram, a general non-smoker, was struck by how nice a cigarette and a piano would be at the moment.

A son.

One time. The only time. It was an after-school special and Lifetime Movie all rolled into one. Years of high school sex ed, in and out of the classroom, had led him to believe even if he was not a super hero in bed, his innate ability to instantly impregnate a woman was his super power. All teenagers were such walking bundles of hormones that the slightest touch would result in diapers and lost careers. Not to mention the scare with Madison after their brief reconciliation. But college, a little living, and married friends who were desperate and unable to conceive had eroded that image. Until now.

***

"He's a 15 months old. He was born in August. August 29. They thought he was a girl right up until he was born. I had the name all picked out. But he surprised us. He weighed 7 pounds, 4 ounces and his hair was blond. Mom says I was blond when I was born. He scared us. He didn't cry right away. But then suddenly…it was like an explosion and he just started wailing. It was amazing. He's in a shy stage right now, but he points to things and can say their name. He loves dogs. Everything with four legs is a dog. He's been walking for about three months. There are baby gates everywhere because he's fast but not too steady. My dad says he's worse than Bright was…"

Amy rattled off the details of Ben's little life as she and Ephram sat side-by-side on the picnic tables outside the hospital. Ephram had walked swiftly out of Rose's room after Amy had revealed their son to him, and she had followed him quietly until he found the courtyard and sunk into a seat. Amy knew her family could see them from the window, but she didn't look. She knew they weren't watching. They were busy with Ben, with nurses, with explanations to Delia. And she was busy with explanations to Ephram. Only she couldn't quite get to the point that so desperately needed to be addressed, so she pointlessly tried to catch him on the ancillary details of the past two years.

"He had pneumonia over the summer. It was terrifying, but he never cried. He was amazing. He loves the garden but hates grass on his toes. If you're not careful he'll steal green beans off the vine to feed the dog. Mom got him his own little gardening set for his birthday so he can dig holes with her, and his birthday cake was chocolate with gummy worms. That was Bright's idea. He taught Ben to stick the worms up his nose. We're all waiting for the day he tries that with a real worm. I've been playing him classical music CDs because the books all say—" 

"You have a dog?" Ephram cut into her rambling speech, his voice laced with only the vaguest curiosity.

"I…um…ya." She was unnerved by his interruption. "A golden retriever." It was actually a dog she'd found on the side of the road during her last year in vet school, nearly frozen with a broken hip It was right after Amy returned from her life-altering trip to New York and she'd poured every ounce of torn, vulnerable emotion into saving the dog. Rusty returned the favor with devoted service and love. But she didn't tell Ephram this. It seemed trivial in the scheme of things.

"Oh." Ephram had always liked dogs ever since he took care of Will's for that month while his old teacher's arm healed. He stared at the ground beneath his feet and thought about that dog, wondered if it was still alive. He couldn't remember its name and this bothered him.

Amy floundered to get back on track the only way she could think how: by telling him what she should have said long before now. Knowing she had to say it, and hoping he'd believe her. She turned to him, took his hand and pleaded, "Ephram, I'm sorry."

"What for?" he asked smoothly, looking from the dirt to her hand over his.

She bit her lip, "For not telling you…sooner."

"Oh." His utter lack of reaction was frightening. Not in the way Jeremy had been frightening when he was quiet, with his sharp words and his quick hands. But in a way that meant Ephram wasn't really quite with her. Like he was dreaming. A sleepwalker. And if she woke him too suddenly, he might lash out.

"There were so many times I wanted to. But your life in New York…it was so full. I didn't want to…ruin that." Which wasn't quite the truth, but it's what she'd told herself most of the time. And it's what she chose to tell him now. 

And maybe he knew it wasn't the truth because he laughed through a quick exhale of breath that was cynical and telling. 

"Ephram, I know this isn't how I should have done this. I should have come to you, before Ben was even born. But there was so much that happened and it seemed impossible."

"Impossible?" he asked, disbelief coloring even his tone.

All her planned speeches and declarations slipped away. Tears sprung to her eyes, pooled and fell down her cheeks in two, single streams. She didn't wipe them away, she didn't gasp or wail, she didn't shake. But still, she cried as she spoke, "I called…once. A few weeks after I knew. I didn't know what to say because of how we left things. But still..."

"You left things. I didn't leave things—" he began, pulling his hand away and rising to go.

But she didn't let him finish and grasped onto his sleeve, tugging him back down. He looked startled at her strength and finally met her insistent eyes. "A woman answered. She said you were out." Amy thought back on that moment, when she'd sat, curled up on her bed in school, wearing the same sweats she'd worn for three days straight while she wandered around in a fog of worry and guilt. "She was out of breath and apologized. She said she had just gotten out of the shower and was late for work. She offered to take a message, but couldn't find a pen. I told her I'd call back. But I couldn't. Not after that."

Her words hung awkwardly in the air, and she realized how unsubstantial her reasoning must sound to his ears. Ears that didn't know the trauma the family went through so soon after she'd made that call. The worry over Bright, her mother's sudden onset of cancer. There was so much more that had made calling Ephram too hard to handle. And by the time it became bearable again, news that Ephram was engaged had reached Everwood and Ben was on his way.

"I'm sorry, Ephram," Amy whispered, not breaking the eye contact he'd finally made. "I'm just trying to tell you that I didn't know what to do at first. And when I finally figured it out, things had changed. So I chose not to tell you. It was wrong, but it was what I decided and I can't go back and redo that. I can only make it right, now."

Ephram stared intently at Amy, who sat miserable but determined, and let the silence grow and thicken between them. She tried to read the searching expression on his face, but failed. And then suddenly, "Oscar."

Amy narrowed her eyes in confusion, "What?"

Ephram unconsciously smiled at the returned memory. "Will's dog was named Oscar." And then, seeing the confusion on Amy's face, his smile went slack and he stood up, shaking Amy's hand off his arm. How had he let her rest it there? How had he let her touch him, with words and with her warm, soft hand? "I have to go," he muttered, turning from her and stalking across the courtyard with strides too long for his normal gait – as close as he could get to running without actually doing so.

***

With Delia out of the room, Ephram quickly showered and changed into fresh, warm clothes that smelled like his apartment. Dashing off a note explaining that he needed to take a drive and clear his head, he placed it on Delia's bed with a $50 bill and instructions to not worry about him. He listened in the hallway, and heard nothing. He opened the door swiftly and quietly, taking note of her voice coming from the stairwell. Delia was still on the phone.

He slipped down the hallway and was gone before she got back to the room. 


End file.
